Bound By His Curse

CHAPTER 12

SERAPHINA VALEMONT POV:

Wild roses climbed the white picket fence surrounding our cottage, their soft pink and white blooms swaying gently in the warm summer breeze, filling the air with a sweet, heady scent that had become the soundtrack of our new life. I’d planted them myself the first spring we moved here, tiny saplings I’d carried all the way from the old estate—small pieces of the past, reborn into something soft and gentle, just like us. It had been almost a year since we broke the curse, almost a year since we walked away from the cold mansions, the endless wealth, and the heavy shadows that had defined both our lives for so long. Here, deep in the countryside, where the only sounds were birdsong, rustling leaves, and the distant tinkle of a stream, time moved slowly and softly—nothing like the frantic, fear-filled days we had known before. No schedules, no expectations, no whispers behind closed doors. Just us, and the quiet magic of a life we’d fought so hard to earn.

I was kneeling in the vegetable patch, dirt under my fingernails and sun warming my bare arms, carefully pulling weeds away from the rows of tomatoes and carrots we had planted together in early spring. Cassian was just a few feet away, hammering new planks into the garden fence, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his dark hair falling messily over his forehead. He looked so different now from the man I had first met—no longer stiff with hidden pain, no longer guarded behind walls of ice and power. His face was relaxed, his smile easy and frequent, and there was a lightness in his step that had been missing for thirty years, ever since the curse had first begun to eat away at him. Sometimes I’d catch him laughing at something a butterfly did, or humming an old tune while he watered the flowers, and my heart would swell so much I thought it might burst—this was the man he was always meant to be, free and whole.

The crunch of tires on the gravel path leading up to our home made me pause, wiping sweat from my forehead as I sat back on my heels. We didn’t get many visitors out here, aside from Vince, who came by almost every weekend with books or fresh bread, or the occasional neighbor from the village a mile away, stopping to share eggs or news. Cassian stopped hammering too, straightening up and wiping his hands on his trousers, his gaze shifting toward the gate. There was no wariness in his eyes anymore, not like before, when every stranger felt like a threat or a reminder of his old life. But there was curiosity, and a faint, quiet wonder, as if he knew exactly who had come to see us.

The small, modest car that pulled to a stop was nothing like the luxury vehicles Arabella used to drive—no polished chrome, no custom paint, no chauffeur waiting to open the door. It was a simple, dusty little sedan, the kind you’d see parked outside a market or a school, and for a second, I wondered if it really was her. The engine cut off, and for a long moment, nothing happened. I could see movement inside, like she was gathering courage, or wiping her face, or just breathing. Then the driver’s door opened slowly, and she stepped out.

My breath caught in my throat. It was Arabella, but not the Arabella I knew. The woman I grew up with had always been bright, polished, sharp-edged, dressed in silk and jewels, her hair perfectly styled, her makeup flawless, carrying herself like she owned every room she walked into. She’d been the golden child, the one everyone looked at, the one everyone praised. This woman was soft, unassuming, dressed in a simple blue cotton dress and worn flat shoes. Her hair, once thick, glossy, and always arranged in elaborate updos, was pulled back loosely in a braid, streaked with silver and light brown, thinner than it used to be, like she’d let go of every bit of vanity she’d ever held. Her face, once smooth and perfect, had fine lines fanning out from her eyes and around her mouth—marks of laughter, of crying, of living fully, instead of just performing. But it was her eyes that were the biggest change—once burning with jealousy, greed, and a desperate need to be seen, now calm, clear, and filled with a quiet kind of peace I had never thought to see in her.

She stood beside her car, twisting her hands together nervously, her gaze darting between me and Cassian, as if she was terrified we would close the gate in her face, or turn away and pretend she didn’t exist. I stood up slowly, brushing dirt off my dress, and walked toward her, my heart aching with a mix of old memories and new hope. Behind me, Cassian followed, stopping just a step behind me, close enough to be my safety, but far enough to let me lead. He’d told me many times that whatever I chose, he would stand with me—forgiveness or distance, whatever my heart wanted.

“I hope… I hope I’m not intruding,” Arabella said, her voice soft and shaky, nothing like the loud, mocking tone I remembered so well. She swallowed hard, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I asked Vince for your address. I wouldn’t have come if I thought you didn’t want to see me. I just… I needed to say this. I couldn’t keep carrying it around anymore. It’s been weighing on me every single day, since the curse broke.”

I unlatched the gate and pulled it open wide, stepping back to let her in. “You’re family, Arabella. You’re always welcome here. You never had to ask.”

She stepped inside, her gaze wandering over our small cottage, the overflowing flower beds, the wooden bench under the ancient oak tree, the clothesline strung between two posts fluttering with fresh laundry. It was so different from the grand homes we had both grown up in, so different from the life she had spent her whole life chasing. For a second, I saw a flash of wonder in her eyes, like she finally understood why I had given up everything to be here—why gold and silk and titles meant nothing next to warmth, and safety, and love.

We walked together to the bench, sitting down side by side, while Cassian leaned against the tree trunk nearby, quiet and patient. It was a moment before Arabella found her voice again, her hands trembling in her lap as she began to speak.

“I’ve spent every single day since that day at the old estate thinking,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

“I thought back to when we were little girls, and I remembered how kind you always were to me, even when I was terrible to you. You used to share your toys with me, and let me take the prettiest dresses, and never complained when Mother and Father praised me and ignored you. I used to think you were weak for that. Now I know you were just… good. In a way I never was, back then. And what did I do? I grew up believing that love was something you had to earn by being the best, the most beautiful, the most special. I thought if I had everything—money, status, admiration—then I would finally be enough. Then people would love me. I thought that was how the world worked.”

She paused, wiping tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.

“I had everything I ever wanted, and I was miserable. I was lonely, empty, and scared all the time that someone would come along and take it all away. And then you came along, quiet and gentle, and you got everything I wanted without even trying. You got Cassian’s attention, you got his respect, you got his love. I hated you for it, because I didn’t understand that love isn’t something you take, or something you earn by being perfect. It’s just… something you are. I spent my whole life trying to be loved, and I never learned how to love anyone else—until I had nothing left.”

I reached over and took her cold, trembling hand in mine, squeezing it gently. “I know, Arabella. I always knew. I knew you weren’t really cruel. You were just scared. You were so scared of being invisible, of being second best, of being forgotten. I understood, because I was scared too, in my own way. We were both just little girls trying to find our place in the world, just in very different ways. I never hated you."

She looked up at me, her eyes wide and raw. “I almost destroyed everything. I almost got all of us killed. I almost ruined the only chance we had to break the curse, all because I was greedy and selfish and blind. And when the magic took everything from me. I thought I had nothing left. I moved into a tiny apartment, alone, and I cried for weeks. But then… I started volunteering at the children’s shelter downtown. I started helping kids who had nothing. Kids who didn’t care if I was pretty or rich or connected. They just cared that I read them stories, or helped them tie their shoes, or sat with them when they were sad. And for the first time in my life, someone needed me for me. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. It taught me what actually matters.”

Cassian pushed himself off the tree trunk and sat down on her other side, his expression soft and sincere.

“We all made mistakes. I spent years believing I was a monster, that I deserved all the pain I went through, that I had to push everyone away to keep them safe. I treated you both like strangers, like pawns, because I was too scared to let anyone close. I hurt you too, Arabella, more than I ever said. What matters isn’t what we did in the past. What matters is what we do with the time we have now. And you’ve already done so much good.”

Arabella told us about her year: the quiet recovery home she had stayed in, the hard days where she cried for hours over the person she used to be, the joy she found in teaching children to read, in painting, in just being useful and kind. She told us about our parents, too—how humbled they had been by everything that happened, how they had finally realized that their daughters were more important than status or wealth, how they had sold the big house, moved to a smaller cottage by the sea, and were working every day to be better parents, to make up for years of neglect and favoritism. “They send their love,” she said softly. “They want to see you, whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m moving north next week,” she told us later, smiling softly, a genuine, warm smile that reached her eyes.

“There’s a small town there, and a big shelter that needs full-time staff. I’m going to train to be a teacher, and work with kids who need someone to care about them. I want to spend the rest of my life making up for all the hurt I caused. I want to be someone you can be proud of, Seraphina. Someone worthy of being your sister.”